


Pigs are people too

by WickedCinnamonRoll



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Family, Explicit Language, Family Issues, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda, Marijuana, Murder, Murderers, Other, Police, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Songfic, Violent Thoughts, cannibals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedCinnamonRoll/pseuds/WickedCinnamonRoll
Summary: [And there's the killer...he's got a real' sharp knife and...each pig that comes by, he just...slices its throat...]I really like the song "Pigs are people too" by Cornbugs so here's me makin' a fic out of it ghsfghfdgff I've been working on this for a good month and god it ended up being waaaaay longer than I thought it was gonna be
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Pigs are people too

Summer afternoons in Texas after working at the slaughterhouse were never easy.

The Sawyer brothers, as well as all the other workers, left every day reeking of sweat, blood and general grime, usually gaining stains from all that grime on their work clothes that were damn near impossible to scrub away. In fact, a good chunk of workers would sometimes bring an extra set of clothes to change into after working so they wouldn’t have to wait ‘til they got home to wear something that didn’t cling so harshly to their sweat covered skin. Of course, it didn’t help much with the smell. The sweat was beyond musky and the blood was so strong you could taste iron at the back of your throat. Most hated and tried tolerating it, but the Sawyers never gave it much thought.

Bobby came out from the slaughterhouse, shirt already off and slung over his neck, the suspenders of his jean overalls dangling by his hips and stretching his arms behind his head, groaning deeply when he felt a small crack somewhere in his lower back. The air outside was just as sweltering as it was inside, but not nearly as suffocating, so Bobby wasn’t gonna complain about the heat just yet. A slap to his sweaty back caused him to look over and see Nubbins, his twin, hunched over and tilting his head up to look his way, wearing a lopsided grin. 

Though they were practically identical, it wasn’t hard for the other workers to tell the two apart. Both sported large port-wine stain birthmarks on their cheeks, Nubbins’s being on his right cheek and Bobby’s on his left, but the one on Nubbins was much deeper in color, almost like a permanent splash of blood right to the face, unable to ever be washed away. They were tall, both standing at around six feet tall, and strangely thin given how often they talked about being able to eat anything given to them. Another big tell on who was who were their hair styles. Nubbins’s dark, greasy hair reached his ears, while Bobby’s reached just past his collarbone, the strands randomly curling halfway down. While working, Bobby would tie his hair back into a ponytail, which the other workers always gave him shit for. Made him look like some sort of hippie queer, they said. Of course, he couldn’t give two shits what they thought.

Once Nubbins had his attention, he sharply pointed forward with his chin to all the parked cars.

“I’m g-gonna catch a ride wit’ one of th’ guys. Don’t w-wait up fer me.” And after Bobby nodded to show it was all good, he watched as Nubbins clumsily ran up to one of the cars, a rather beat up looking Continental, and said something to the driver before climbing into the backseat. A minute or two later, the car started up and began driving away. 

Bobby’s attention then directed back to the entrance behind him as his other brother, Bubba, slowly stepped outside.

Bubba was only eighteen, yet he was well over six feet tall and extremely hefty, both in terms of weight and in muscle. As Bobby expected, when he came out, he stood hunched over slightly, head dipped down as if the ground beneath him was the most interesting sight in the world and twiddling his thumbs. His mess of brown curls helped to better obscure his face and he made no attempt to push any strands back.

He only peeked up from the ground for a split second to look at Bobby and quickly hurried over to stand next to him. 

“ _Where’s Nubbins?_ ” Bubba muttered quietly to Bobby.

“Eh? O-Oh...yeah, Nubbins- he, uh, jus’ left wit’ some dudes. Should be home right soon, though.”

As Bubba nodded, muttering to himself about how he hopes he won’t be gone long, Bobby glanced to his right, looking past Bubba and over to one of the workers leaning against the wall next to a side door of the building. He then looked around generally, watching as the other workers shared short lived small talk before getting behind the wheel to drive home, eager to finally be done for the day. What mattered, though, was that no one seemed to be looking their way. Patting his brother’s chest to get his attention, Bobby looked up at him.

“Hey Bubba, uh, g-go wait in the truck fer me, ‘kay? Gotta take care of somethin’ real’ quick.”

Sighing, shoulders dropping, Bubba listened to his older brother and walked straight to their pickup truck. He watched as he climbed into the passenger seat and once he was positive he’d stay there, only then did Bobby walk over to the lone worker by the wall. 

His name was Peter and he was by no means a stranger to Bobby. He was just a year older than Bubba and they barely ever spoke to each other during work itself, but after work was a different story. They both knew what was up as Bobby laughed, bringing his hand up for their handshake.

“‘Sup, Petey boy.” He chuckled, slapping him some skin and bumping his knuckles with his own. “Good ta see ya stuck around t’day. Been itchin’ for some good sh-shit lately.”

“Yeah?” Peter laughed back, a hint of smugness on his lips that became more obvious as he continued talking. “Well, you caught me on a good day. I got _extra_ good shit wit’ me this time.”

Immediately interested in what he had to say, Bobby leaned down, cocking an eyebrow, his smile growing.

He watched carefully as Peter pulled two plastic baggies from his jacket, one holding the marijuana itself and the other held the papers for rolling up joints. 

“Now, what we got here is our classic Mary J, straight from Mexico ‘cause you know they do it right over there. And this-” He lifted up the bag holding the papers. “this is where ‘ol Petey’s been doin’ his science experiments.”

Taking a closer inspection of the bag, they appeared to be normal joint rolling papers. A few of them had some splashes of color, but that’s about it. 

Bobby blinked, tilted his head and gestured for him to continue.

Peter looked around and so did Bobby. The only cars that remained belonged to them and the foremen that looked over all that went on in the slaughterhouse, but they didn’t usually leave until hours after the rest of the workers, so they should’ve been fine. Once Peter turned back to face Bobby, he licked his lips and leaned in closer, keeping his voice down.

“I laced some of the papers with acid.”

It took everything he had in him not to immediately grab the bags from him and smoke up right then and there. His eyes grew wide and an airy laugh escaped him as he shook his head in disbelief. 

“You bustin’ my balls righ’ now?”

“No!” He hissed quietly. “I swear to god- swear on my grave- on my mama’s grave even!”

“Well, you smoke any of ‘em yerself? Wh-What’s it like?”

“I smoked one a few nights ago and-” He exhaled deeply, shaking his head as he laughed too. “It ain’t like anythang I’ve taken before. It sent me to the fuckin’ moon n’ back and showed me shit I’ve neva’ even dreamed of seein’ in my life. A-And it even lasted long too.” 

Bobby could barely contain his excitement nor his imagination that went absolutely buck wild thinking of all the possible things he’d see or feel. The normal reefer he got from Peter was perfectly fine on its own and helped him to wind down after work, but acid too? It was like Christmas came early for him.

As Bobby began pulling a wad of cash from the pocket of his overalls, Peter spoke up again.

“The only advice I have ta give is...don’t put too much grass in th’ joint. The acid’s pretty damn strong, so you won’t need the normal amount you usually get wit’ a regular joint. Just add a few pinches of the stuff, roll it up tight and smoke away.”

“Got it.” Bobby spat out as he handed him the wrinkled bills and took the baggies from him. He was all smiles as he gave him a hearty pat on the back. “Thanks again, kid. Really saved my ass t’day.”

“Hey, I do what I can do.” He shrugged, but he was clearly pleased with the praise. As he started to walk back to his car, he turned and shot him a half assed salute. “Later, hippie.”

Holding the baggies close to his chest, Bobby hurried over to his truck, opened the driver’s side door, which surprised Bubba, and got behind the wheel, bouncing excitedly in his seat. He wasted no time in giving the baggies his full, undivided attention as he opened them up.

Bubba was well acquainted with the situation he found himself in, but only had a fragmented idea of what it actually was. After work on Fridays, his brother would buy a funny plant that stunk like a skunk from one of the other workers and when he wanted to feel good, he’d put it in some papers, roll it up and smoke it like Drayton did with his cigarettes. Only it wasn’t a cigarette like Bubba first thought it was because Drayton hated it when Bobby would smoke it. Whenever Drayton would find him smoking, he’d shout at him, swat him over the head and call him “a shitty goddamn pothead” whatever that meant. So, whenever he smoked, he usually did so in his truck or outside their house. Nubbins would sometimes smoke it too, but not as often as Bobby, and Bubba wasn’t even allowed to touch the stuff.

He said nothing as he watched Bobby sprinkle some of the plant onto the unusually colorful paper and began rolling it up. After sticking it between his teeth, he shoved the baggies away. Only then did he pull out his rainbow lighter and with a few clicks, brought the flame to the end of the joint. Bubba quickly opened his window and so did Bobby, taking a long drag as he did so and eventually blowing the smoke out once his window was fully down.

Bobby smiled to himself as he started up the car and took another drag. He could only describe the taste as earthy, but he’s sure Peter would use a whole slew of fancy sounding words to better express the flavor. In any case, he didn’t need a dictionary to know the way the smoke snaked down his throat and up to his head was exactly what he needed after a long day of work. Alongside the familiar natural taste that he’d come to expect from Peter’s stash was a more foreign one, which he had to guess came from the acid. Before that day, Bobby had never gotten the chance to try it and only heard the stories and experiences second hand. He knew the stuff needed more time to send you on a trip compared to marijuana, but damn what a trip it would be. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Bubba impatiently tapping his fingers against the glove compartment and it was easy to see where this irritated action was coming from. Despite the rumbling of the engine, the truck remained stationary in the parking lot.

He tried to play it off by laughing. “Ah, s-sorry Bubba. Heh...got caught up in ma own head for a second there.” His laughter, however, quickly devolved into annoyed groans once he caught sight of the fuel gauge. 

The pointer didn’t rest completely on empty, but it was too close for comfort. Giving its glass cover a few flicks, the pointer bounced a few ticks up...then back down. Bobby sighed in defeat. 

“Goddamn piece of junk…” He muttered, taking another puff to cool his nerves back down. “Gonna have to fill ‘er up before we head home.”

It was getting later in the afternoon with each passing second, but early enough that Bobby knew Drayton should still be at work for a few more hours. Not exactly feeling in the mood to pay his brother for gas, he decided he’d go with the alternative.

“Ehhh...fuck it. Let’s jus’ go into town fer gas.” Turning, he lightly patted Bubba’s chest with the back of his hand. “And, hell, maybe even get a slurpee too? Eh? H-How does that sound?”

And just like that, Bubba’s annoyance was instantly replaced with excitement. The youngest Sawyer barely ever went into town like his brothers did, but the few visits he did get to go on were very enjoyable. The gas station there was bigger than the one Drayton worked at, as well as much more colorful and bright with it’s neon signs. It also had a lot of candy with pretty wrappings and sometimes Bobby or Nubbins would let him pick one to get with his slurpee. Bubba was willing to forgive Bobby for making him wait while he bought his funny smelling plant if it meant he would be getting a treat too.

Once he was sure Bubba was in a better mood, Bobby resumed his earlier laughter and finally pulled out of the parking lot and into the streets. 

As Bubba began to babble to himself about which flavor slurpee he should get, Bobby, with one hand on the wheel, used his other hand to reach down into the door compartment and pull out his sunglasses. They were round, like the ones John Lennon wears, and tinted red. After he slipped them on, he used the same free hand to finally let his hair down. Smiling, he watched as the glasses turned the road into a sea of red pavement. 

On their way there, barely any other cars joined them on the road, just how Bobby liked it. It was why he enjoyed late night drives so much. As the town grew closer on the horizon, so too did the end of his joint. He barely even noticed how often he’d been taking puffs of it so he couldn’t be too mad. Tossing the roach out the window, he watched as it almost seemed to hover for a moment before it floated down to the road. He was so mesmerized by it, he nearly missed the turn into the gas station. But, thanks to Bubba, he didn't. Safe to say that Bubba was determined in actually showing up to their little field trip’s destination. 

Once he parked by one of the pumps, Bobby took the time to clumsily pull his work shirt back over his body and tie the straps of his overalls around his waist before stepping out with Bubba.

Making their way inside the station, they were met with the usual scene of buzzing fluorescent lights all around them, a dinky little radio spitting out music and the cold chill of the overpowered fridges in the back. Just as Bubba was about to go straight to the slurpee machine, he froze when he heard some talking and laughter in the back where the machine was. Of course, it shouldn’t have been a shock that other people happen to be there too, but all the other times he came with his brothers, they were usually the only ones in at the moment. His footsteps stuttered slightly and Bubba looked down at the tiled floors, unsure if he wanted to leave his brother’s side yet. He wasn’t really good with being around people other than his family or coworkers, but he knew Bobby was different. Bobby liked to talk to people a lot and was good at it too.

Bobby finally got the hint once he felt Bubba staring down at him. 

“Might as well get some beer too.” Bobby muttered as he began walking to the fridges, Bubba following close behind him. 

As his younger brother gave the slurpee machine his undivided attention, Bobby’s gaze alternated between the beer and the other young adults in the station. There were two girls and a guy, but from the looks of the van he spotted by one of the other pumps, there must’ve been more waiting for them outside. Their preppy clothes were an obvious indicator that they weren’t from around here and most likely taking a pit stop on a road trip or something like that. Hearing their laughter and fractured comments about what they thought of the countryside made Bobby shake his head as he grabbed a cold case of beer. He couldn’t give two shits what people thought of his home town, but acting like where they’re from is somehow so much better really got under his skin. What made them hot shit compared to him just because they grew up in some crowded and smoggy city a few states over?

He shook his head again. He was getting ahead of himself. 

Once he saw that Bubba had his slurpee in hand, Bobby urged for him to follow him over to the cashier. Placing the items on the counter, he mentioned that they were in need of some gas too. After ringing the brothers up, the cashier quickly confirms that someone would be sent out to help them in a few minutes.

“Wh-What flavor didja get?” Bobby asked as they exited the station.

“ _Cherry!_ ” Bubba squealed happily. “ _It’s really yummy! Do you want a sip?_ ”

“I’ll pass, but th-thanks.” His head was beginning to spin when he shoved the beer in the space in front of Bubba’s seat, the case almost melting through his hands as it left his grasp.

Bubba climbed into his seat and shut the door behind him. Meanwhile, Bobby walked around to the driver’s side to lean against the door, choosing to stay outside to watch the worker and remaining customers leave the station. All he gives to acknowledge the worker is a curt nod before directing the rest of his attention to the young travelers returning to their friends in the van. 

The ones in the parking lot look just as preppy as the ones that came from the station, as well as eager to collect any and all snacks and goodies brought back to them. The large side door of the van slammed open as they piled the snacks into the back and loudly talked and laughed amongst themselves. One of the girls, a rather youthful looking blonde with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, briefly glanced over to Bobby and his truck, looked away, but strangely enough, attempted to steal another glimpse his way immediately after. Her eyes held an unmistakable glint of curiosity to them. This by no means flew past his radar as half a smile snuck up onto his lips. Tipping his sunglasses down slightly, he shot the girl a quick wink before pushing the glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. Surprised, she smiled as well, quick to tuck her chin down and avert her eyes from the stranger.

“Oh good lord...you’ve _got_ to be kidding.” One of her friends, a girl with dark, free flowing hair, not so quietly grumbled. 

The first girl whipped her head over to look at her friend. “What? He’s kinda cute.” She at least made an effort to keep her voice down.

“You’ve officially lost it, I swear.” Her friend hisses. “He’s just some hick.”

“Why don’t you ask that hick for some directions then?” Someone from inside the van asked in a rather loud tone.

Through the echoed laughter from within the van, some shushing could be heard as the blonde girl, face beet red, turned and inched towards Bobby.

“I am so sorry about my friends.” She began quietly. Clearing her throat, she straightened her back a bit in an attempt to better look at Bobby. “Um...I assume you’re from around here?” The last second cadence change made it sound like a question.

“Yes ma’am.” He replied. “And I ‘sume you lot are a long way from home.”

She nodded, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah. Um, do you know how far Stockdale is from here?”

“Stockdale? Oh th-that’s a few counties down, but yer on the right track if you keep g-goin’ that way and you’ll see signs for it soon enough.” Bobby vaguely gestured down the road. He chuckled to himself as he fiddled with his lighter. “But, ah, wh-what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ heading to some dusty town like Stockdale?”

“Oh, um-” She smiled, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “We’re just goin’ down to check up on my friend’s family-”

“Mary!” One of the girls shouted from the van. “Say bye to your little boyfriend and get your butt back inside so we can go!”

Blushing intensely, her gaze whipped between the van and Bobby. “Ah, th-thanks again and sorry for the trouble.” She muttered, returning to the van.

“Safe travels to you and yer friends, Mary.” Bobby called out as she climbed into the back of the van, earning one final glance back from the girl before the van door slammed shut.

By the time the van sped on down the road, the gas station worker was done filling up the truck and the brothers had nothing keeping them there anymore. Bobby placed his hand on the handle and a chill traveled up and down his body, hyper aware of the coldness the handle carried. Goosebumps prickled over every inch of his body as he halted his movements. What could only be described as a wave of every emotional sensation in the book crashed against the mind of Bobby and he began blinking furiously in some sort of attempt to process it all. His eyes became unfocused, his mind fuzzy and his throat dry as he gave a shallow gulp. Despite all this...his lips curled into a smile. 

This was it. It had to be the acid catching up with him. 

With this realization came the disappearance of any negative emotions he may have been feeling, melting right off his body like ice cream sliding down a cone. Through his glasses, any sweat dripping down his body looked more like thick blood. If any other person were to see this, they may have panicked, but not Bobby. Oh no...not Bobby. The sight, if anything, made him...excited. His pupils dilated and he licked his lips, a strained sigh of delighted bewilderment escaping from him as his eyes closely followed each bead of bloody sweat. His heart rate increased, thinking back to memories of prior months.

A pretty girl at the bar, not unlike the one who had just asked him for directions. In that moment, he _knew_ he had to have her.

She was absolutely wasted, so he had no troubles convincing her to come with him.

Lingering gazes and trailing hands lasted the whole car trip that led to her being practically glued to him when he helped her out.

She didn’t even question why he was taking her to a shed instead of to the house.

It didn’t take long until her drunken giggles devolved into confused babbling and finally, into bone chilling shrieks of anguish.

Her blood gushed like a low pressure fountain: so much coming out and at a fast rate, but dribbled down her body.

He couldn’t help himself but to hang her over a bucket to catch every drop she spilled. 

His brother could have all the meat he wanted, but the blood...the blood was his.

He lifted his arm, focusing his sights on a single bead of red tinted sweat on his wrist, and brought it closer to his face. The strong smell of iron was still so strong.

He flinched and dropped his arm to his side when he heard loud tapping on the driver’s side door. Looking up, he saw Bubba leaning over from his seat, fidgeting slightly, holding an empty slurpee cup.

“Sorry Bu-Bubba.” Bobby slurred, finally opening the door and climbing back behind the wheel. For a moment, he quietly attempts to explain himself, but everything comes out as babbles, so he’s quick to stop himself.

Starting up the truck, they peel out of the station and return to the main road.

Off on the horizon, the sun slowly began its descent down the skies.

“ _Pretty_ …” Bubba said quietly, watching the sky’s colors change from blue to orange. 

“Yeah...real’ pretty.” That blood red coloring from before now transferred to the horizon as Bobby watched blood drip down and around the sun. Even the few clouds were affected by it, soaking up the sky’s blood like balls of cotton shoved against an open wound. Bobby wasn’t lying when he said it was pretty...not even a little bit.

Eventually, the blood from above reached the ground and splashed onto the road in droplets. Furrowing his brow, Bobby swerved every once in a while in order to avoid the puddles, earning a few confused whines from Bubba as he did so. He could only be thankful that the roads were empty of any other cars. 

“ _Bobby, why are you driving out of the lines? Aren’t you not suppose to do that?_ ”

Through the full body shivers he was getting from the strong smell of blood entering his nostrils, Bobby sneered. “It’s fine Bubba and- h-hey, I’m the one here with th-the license, ‘kay? I know what I’m fuckin’ doin’.” 

Bubba mumbled something to himself and crossed his arms.

“Look, I’m sorry kid, but-” Bobby’s attention then turned to a particularly large drop forming in the sky. Either he had to speed up to avoid having to dodge the no doubt large puddle it would make or actually dodge it.

“Fuck it.” He growled and didn’t hesitate to tear down the road for a few short moments with a squeal of the wheels underneath them. In the rearview mirror, he could see the large puddle that covered the entirety of the road. “Close call back there, eh?”

Shaking his head, Bubba’s eyebrows bumped up in confusion. He knew his brother said his fair share of funny things after he smoked, but this was different. He dug his fingers into the leather of his seat, unsure of what else to do.

“Yeah...shouldn’t be too much l-longer ‘til we get back-”

Bobby felt his stomach drop when he looked into the rearview mirror to see flashing blue and red lights staring back at him. And just like that, any leftover ecstasy he may have been feeling at the sight and scent of blood fully left him.

As he began to pull over, he sighed heavily. “Oh Christ…” He looked over to Bubba. “Hey Bubba, you got the...r-registration in th-?”

Once he fully stopped, Bubba fumbled with the glove compartment for a moment before opening it up. The registration papers, or at least, what remained of them, were chewed up and made into what looked like a nest.

“Ah shit...some f-fuckin’ mouse got to it. Made a nest and everything…” His words trailed into muttered curses under his breath as he glanced back into the rearview mirror.

Looking back at the police car behind them, he froze.

Stepping out from the driver’s side was...he wasn’t sure what it was. It was human shaped and had the typical boots, badge and hat that all officers had, but something about this one wasn’t right. As the officer grew closer, more features made themselves better known to Bobby. Its eyes were small and beady while its cheeks were large and jowly. So far, all these features matched up with a stereotypical fat cop you would see munching on donuts behind the wheel. But that wasn’t the end. Its flat nose smushed against its sunburnt, almost pink face and its ears...they weren’t on the side of its head. Instead, they poked out from under its hat.

Bobby’s sunglasses dipped down his nose to get a better look with his unfiltered eyes, but nothing about the cop’s appearance changed. 

“By god…” He rasped, unable to tear his eyes away from the mirror. “Bubba, t-take a look at this!”

Confused, Bubba listened to his older brother and looked in the mirror as well. He let out a quiet, distressed cluck at the sight of the cop, but doesn’t seem to be extra freaked out by what Bobby saw. Bobby’s eyes only grew larger when the cop grew nearer and its features didn’t change and in fact, actually became more clear what in fact they were dealing with.

It...it was a pig! It wasn’t a person at all, it was a goddamn pig standing on it’s two back feet!

“Bubba, wh-what’s goin’ on?!” Bobby blubbered rather pathetically. 

Bubba was now much more frightened by his brother’s reaction than he was with the cop at this point.

“ _I don’t know, Bobby!_ ” Bubba whined.

Before either could continue voicing their concerns, a light tapping at Bobby’s window caused them both to freeze up. Slowing turning, Bobby flinched at the sight of the pig cop standing right by the driver’s side door. After mustering up a rather fake looking smile, he rolls down the squeaky window.

“H-Heheh...wh-what seems to be the problem...officer?” Bobby chuckled as he leaned out the window, managing to spit out the last word before going quiet.

Rather than speak, the cop, expectedly, let out a string of low squeals while gesturing to the truck and the road.

“Uh...s-sorry? Wh-What didja say?”

The cop rolls his eyes and through his squeals, Bobby is able to make out his words. “You have any idea how fast you were goin’ back there?”

“Ah...t-too fast?”

“Hell of an understatement there, son.” He blethered through his jowls. “License and registration?”

“I, ah, j-just have my license.” Bobby mumbled as he dug through his pocket and eventually pulled it out. He gave it an extra glance before handing it over to him. It read Robert Paul Sawyer.

“Well I would prefer if you had both, but alright.” The cop murmured back. After putting something down on his notepad, he returned the license to Bobby. “You’re lucky there was no one else on the road. Could’ve really done a number on someone with how fast you were goin’ there.”

“Right...eheheh...s-sorry.” Bobby chuckled nervously as he shoved his license back into his pocket. “W-Won’t happen again.”

Squealing a bit, his eyebrows creased down harshly. “Better not or else I may have to do more than write you a ticket, son.”

As the cop started to do just that, Bobby laughed again. This time, it didn’t sound as nervous as it did before.

Snorting, the cop looked back up at him, pencil still hovering over his notepad. “Something funny, son?”

He lifted his hand and dropped it to his thigh, now wheezing through his laughter. “It-It’s just th-that! How’d I b-b-be your damn son?”

“Look, it’s just what I call all the young men I run into-”

“‘Cause how the hell is a pig gonna father a r-r-regular ol’ person?”

He couldn’t see it, due to how focused he was on the cop, but Bubba’s shoulders tensed up fiercely at that. He knew that Bobby and his other brothers often called the cops “pigs” but he never thought they’d ever call them that right to their faces. In fact, Drayton told the boys to be overly polite and compliant when interacting with the police so as to not draw any suspicion their way. Bubba didn’t like being called animal names, so he could only imagine how this officer, who had a gun, would react. Fortunately, the officer didn’t react quite that severely, but he still frowned.

“You’re brave for sayin’ that right to my face. Real’ brave and stupid.” His pink skin grew red. As red as the apple you use to stuff a pig’s mouth with…

Despite his tone, Bobby continued. “Gonna get all steamed up? H-Hear steam’s good for cookin’ pork.”

“Alright, get outta the truck.” The cop then said, blubbering through his snout.

While Bubba whined and whimpered at what was happening, Bobby kept laughing, keeping the cop’s eyes focused on his face as he snuck his switchblade into his back pocket and climbed out of his seat.

“H-heheh...w-woah now...d-don’t go _hog_ wild on me now.”

“You think you’re funny? Huh?” The cop squealed, stomping up to him to get right in his face.

“I think I’m f-fuckin’ hilarious.”

The cop didn’t say anything at first, but then his snout twitched and snorted as he leaned in closer. “Christ boy, you stink like a skunk. Reckless driving _and_ smoking doobies? Now I don’t need more of a reason to take you down to the station.”

Slowly, a scowl overtook his lips and his laughter ceased. “You ain’t takin’ me nowhere.”

“Are you resisting arrest?”

He didn’t say anything but you’d have to be stupid not to see the murderous flames lick up in his gaze and Bobby must’ve been dealing with the dumbest pig this side of Texas. His scowl dipped into a less than sincere look of remorse as he bat his eyes.

“Oh n-no officer, I-I don’t wanna be resisting nothing. L-Let me talk to my brother right quick, then you can take th-this good f-for nothing pothead wherever you want.”

The cop wasn’t exactly buying the act, but simply watched as Bobby walked around to Bubba’s side of the truck and opened the door.

“Bubba…” Bobby hissed under his breath and Bubba jumped at his tone, laced with venom and eyes filled with fire. “Wanna help yer bro deal wit’ this useless pig?” 

Gulping, all Bubba could do was nod. He didn’t want to see his brother taken away from him by a pig and “thrown in the slammer” like Drayton says, so he wanted to help for that not to happen. Seeing him nod, Bobby’s crooked smile returned.

“Good...do whatever you can to knock ‘im down. This fucker’s gonna make some m-mighty fine pork chops.”

Bobby’s ear was then drawn to the radio, still playing at a low volume and his grin grew once he heard the opening cords of “You’re gonna miss me.”

“Ohhhhh fuuuuck...I-I love this song.” He laughed as he reached over and turned it up as high as it could go and even as Bubba climbed out of his own seat, he would still hear it from outside. 

“What the-?” The cop began, but as he was looking at Bobby, he failed to notice the man’s brother walking up behind him.

Just as his brother instructed, Bubba grabbed a hold of the cop and wrestled him to the ground. As expected, the cop tried fighting back, but when he grabbed his gun, Bubba knocked it out of his grasp and it scattered against the road.

“You fuckin’ son of a bitch-!” Before he could shout more, Bubba bashed his head to the road and held it there as the larger brother squealed in disdain at the insult and as the cop cried out in pain at the harsh pavement rubbing against his skin. 

After picking up the gun, Bobby walked, or more so, danced over to the truck and tossed it in the back. He whipped around to face the pig and shimmied closer, spinning and waving his arms around in the air as the music tangoed around him. It was as if all worries of this pig took a backseat to his want and need to enjoy the music and Bubba didn’t seem to mind his brother taking his time. By this point, the sun was oh so close to fully setting, but the blood from the orange sky continued to drip down, if a bit more sparser than before. A pleasurable shiver snaked down his spin as a few drops landed on his hands and he knew he had to add to it. 

Still holding the cop to the ground, Bubba slightly turned the body so it laid flat against the road and Bobby pressed his boot to his stomach and pushed down hard on it.

Tilting his head, Bobby shot the cop a shit eating grin. “Well...g-go ahead, piggy. Cuff me. I ain’t r-resisting arrest.”

To his amusement, the cop actually attempted to struggle for the handcuffs and pair of keys attached to his belt. This didn’t go unnoticed by Bubba, who reacted by twisting the cop’s hand so quickly, a few cracks could be heard from his wrist. An ear piercing screech bellowed from him and most likely could’ve been heard a mile down the road, but they seemed to still be empty. 

Bobby squealed back, mocking him. “C’mon! Squeal louder, piggy, squeal!”

The cop struggled once more to escape, but Bubba quickly made all hopes of him getting out of this alive dash away as he slammed his head against the pavement again. As he mushed and rubbed his cheek into the ground, a small pool of blood began to form and smear onto the road. Bubba must’ve bashed the side of his face raw, scraping off a good portion of his cheek skin. Keeping his boot on his large belly, Bobby kneeled forward and slammed his knee right below his Adam's apple. He laughed cruelly at the noise he made, almost like an old squeaky toy being stomped on, and brought out his knife with a flick of his hand.

“You d-damn pigs are all the same.” Bobby growled, leaning down further. He placed the tip of his knife against his temple, applying light pressure to it at first. “At least you had the d-decency to sh-show your true face.”

Once he drew a thin cut down the unscuffed side of the cop’s face, Bobby watched the face of the cop twitch and spasm a bit, changing from a full on pig, to some sort of fucked up hybrid of a man’s and pig’s face, back to a normal pig, teeth clenched and nostrils flaring in pain and unfiltered anger. He ran the blunt side of the knife back over the cut, catching a few drops of blood and brought it up to his face. Flashing his slightly whitened tongue, he licked his knife, careful not to cut himself. Once the taste of blood seeped into his mouth, he couldn’t help but bubbly giggle, as if he were a kid and snuck a taste of some cake batter or cookie dough when he wasn’t supposed to.

“You-!” the cop spat. “You fuckin’ sick freak-!” 

Bobby responded with a swift back hand to his newly cut cheek, the stinging slap inflaming the wound and exploding into pain. He then used his free hand to hoist up his head by his shirt collar. 

“Y’know, I-I w-was gonna do ya a favor and have Bubba slice ya up in his work room, but instead, I-I think I’ll gut ya right here right now and watch ya die in the streets like the fuckin’ animal you are.”

All the cop could do in response was gurgle out a string of slurred curses, eyes wide and bugging out and heart pounding. Looking up at Bubba, Bobby signaled for him to let go and stand back and he did just that. While Bobby applied more pressure from his knee to the cop’s throat, his victim attempted to reach up and claw at his back, trying to get a good grip to throw him off of him, but to no avail. Bobby harshly grabbed and tugged at his ear atop his head and placed his blade on raw, smashed cheek, beginning to slice away at any loose skin just to get some more screams for him. Once he did, he slapped him again, on the raw side this time.

“Squeal!” Bobby screeched. “Squeal, damn it, squeal! Pigs don’t fuckin’ talk or fight back! They squeal!”

Before the officer could attempt anything else, Bobby stuck the blade in the side of his neck and began to slice it across his throat and over to the other side of his neck, creating a jagged and large gash, gushing with blood. His squeals expectedly became more gurgled and frantic as he tried and failed to cover up the cut with his hands. Finally taking his boot off the cop’s stomach, Bobby moved to straddle the body and lifted up his knife high into the air. 

“Die, pig, die!”

And with that, Bobby began to plunge the knife into the fatty torso of the pig cop over and over again. Each time he brought the knife up and blood sprayed out onto his body or face, the more sporadic and quickly he’d stab back down. His eyes were just as wide as the cop’s and dilated to hell and back and his tongue hung from his mouth like an excited dog as he giggled and panted wildly. Blood absolutely covered his hands but the knife refused to slip from his iron grasp. Each guttural tear into skin weaved in between the tune of the radio to create his favorite song in the world. A song he got to create himself. He knew he wouldn’t be able to properly gut him like he wanted to thanks to the weapon he was using, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t do as much damage as he possibly could. He wanted this cop to look like he got pumped full of bullets by the time he was done with him and he got his wish. Through all the tears in his clothing, slits of various sizes and neatness littered his body and bled profusely. 

Once the body ceased all movements, so did Bobby. Breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling, he lifted his hand, caked in blood and sucked his thumb dry of it. Blood remained deep under his fingernail, but he hardly minded as he pulled his thumb from his mouth with a pop. Letting out a shaky sigh, his head rolled back as if to bask in the blood red sky and over up a sacrifice in the form of the body he had just mutilated. 

His eyes opened back up when he felt Bubba patting his shoulder. His hair had been tossed back a bit and Bobby could now see his face better. Freckles dotted all over his cheeks and scrunched up nose and the beginning whiskers of sideburns were painted up his soft, square jaw. Though he had just assisted his brother in murdering a police officer, his brown eyes looked like they belonged to an innocent puppy dog begging to go out on a walk. He really was still just a boy.

Bobby’s previously bloodthirsty smile tamed and turned kinder.

“Thank you, Bubba.” He rasped. “Now...c-can you help me out in moving his body to the back?”

The drive back to the Sawyer household was a quiet one. Even the radio was a mere low buzzing to the ears of the bloodied brothers. The sun had fully set at this point, leaving behind only dried puddles of sky blood in the road.

Pulling into the dirt driveway of the small house, Bobby felt his eyes roll around when he saw the front door open and their eldest brother, Drayton, walk out. He was twice Bobby’s age and acted like it, often treating him, Nubbins and Bubba more like disobedient children rather than siblings. The two brothers climbed out of the way and towards Drayton, already beginning to nag to them.

“Well, it’s about damn time y’all showed up! Nubbins got back a good hour before you lot did-” He stopped, now seeing Bobby and Bubba better thanks to the light from inside leaking out onto them. “Shit! What happened to you two? Messy day at the slaughterhouse?”

“Got pulled over by a pig.” Bobby droned, mindlessly whipping his hands on his overalls, most of the blood already stuck to his skin. He attempted to walk into the house, but Drayton stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back to stand in front of him.

“This is from a cop?!” Drayton snapped and Bobby could hear Bubba whining from behind him. “You bitch hogs bashed a cop?! Fuckin’ Christ! Tell me no one saw yer asses!”

“The roads were empty, D-Drayton, and he was no normal cop! It was an actual f-f-fuckin’ pig!” Bobby yelled back. 

“Wh- Y’all got ‘em in the middle of the road?! And an actual pig?! What in the hell are you talkin’ about, boy?!” He stopped again, giving quick, exaggerating sniffs to the air around him and Bobby could already tell exactly what he was going to say. “Have you been-?!”

“Smoking? Yeah, obviously! But the guy was practically beggin’ for me to cut his ass up. He was tryin’ to arrest me ‘cause I was d-driving too fast or wh-whatever, but like I said, the roads were empty!”

Balling his fists up, Drayton mumbled and cursed to himself for a moment before he raised a hand up. Bobby immediately flinched, raising his arms up over his head and even Bubba came to his side, trying to put himself between the bickering brothers, letting out worried clucks. Drayton scoffed to himself before dropping his hand to his side.

“I left no trail.” Bobby continued. “Took his gun, his badge, th-the paper he was using to write up my t-ticket...everything.”

Drayton didn’t say anything at first, instead turning to Bubba. “Get the body on a hook and see if you can salvage any meat tomorrow and you-” He turned back to Bobby, jabbing a finger his way. “You...I don’t even wanna fuckin’ talk to you righ’ now.”

And with that, Drayton turned around and stormed back instead, slamming the door shut behind him.

It was clear Bubba wanted to comfort his brother, but Bobby shrugged off the hand he placed on his shoulder. “You better get that body on a hook...before that damn cook gets ‘is broom.”

Bubba nodded, still clucking as he went over to the truck bed and began dragging the body out. As he did that, Bobby trudged over to the house and sat on the bottom steps of the porch. 

It was a beautiful night: the stars hung high in the sky and shined bright as ever, the nearby crickets were loud and in abundance and the air was warm and sweet, only made better by the smell of blood that stuck to his skin and clothes. Bobby hung his head low, keeping his eyes focused on his lighter and the small, dancing flame it created when he flicked it on. A few minutes passed and the door behind him open and shut and he closed his eyes, ready for another barrage of insults. But as he felt the wood besides him creak and a shoulder bump into his, he knew it wasn’t Drayton.

“Hey.” Nubbins said. 

“Hey.” Bobby parroted back.

Realistically speaking, they could’ve gone the rest of the night without saying another word to each other and it still would’ve felt just right. The whole thing about twins being able to read each other’s minds or be able to know what the other is going to say every time is bullshit, but it can’t be said that there’s no special bond twins share to speak of. Bobby loved Bubba sure and Drayton...he certainly was his brother, but Nubbins was his _twin_ for god’s sake. There was no one else in this world that he felt closer with.

“S-So...y-you got to k-kill a cop?” No matter what, Nubbins’s stutter had always been more pronounced than Bobby’s. 

“Yeah…” Bobby said, a ghost of a grin working its way onto his lips. “Slit his th-throat just like you do with a pig...made his squeal when he died.”

Nubbins laughed rather unabashedly. “Fuck! R-Really?!”

Bobby nodded, fully smiling now. 

“Goddamn…” Nubbins half scoffed, half laughed.

“Yeah…”

“M-M-Makes me wish I-I didn’t catch a ride wit’ the guys and went wit’ you in-instead.”

Bobby couldn’t hold in his laugh anymore.

“Y’know?”

“Yeah…”

Another bout of silence before Nubbins spoke up.

“Y-Y’know...Drayton won’t say it...b-but I will…” He craned his neck down to get a better look at his twin. “Killing a-a cop? F-F-Fuckin’ far out, man.”

“Th-Thanks, Nubs.” Bobby said sincerely, bumping his shoulder against his brother’s. 

Drayton ended up meaning what he said about not talking to him for the rest of the night, but Bobby didn’t care. Not one bit. He fell asleep that night high as a kite and to the echoing sounds of squealing still present in his head.

That day he learned that pigs weren’t just animals on a farm.

Pigs...are people too...


End file.
